


Volunta Avemo e Core

by Aenaria



Series: the Will and the Heart [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, I think there's some beardy!Steve in here also, It Came From Tumblr, Long-Distance Relationship, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Scenery Porn, Secret Relationship, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, aenaria really likes her
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-04 05:47:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6643807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aenaria/pseuds/Aenaria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Nobody ever suspects the intern,” she says, handing the stack over to Steve Rogers with a flourish.</p><p>When it comes to getting classified information to her boyfriend, who's busy running around on the hunt for Bucky Barnes, there's no one better for the job than her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Volunta Avemo e Core

**Author's Note:**

> The last of the four promised ficlets in the collection. This one was written after the WS movie came out, though the descriptions within are vague enough to link up smoothly with the previous story. While I don't have the slightest idea where this universe will go next, I am always open for prompts via my tumblr at aenariasbookshelf.tumblr.com. So who knows? The future is wide open. :)
> 
> Original notes: 
> 
> rembrandtswife asked:  
> Steve/Darcy prompts! Steve and Darcy go to church together. Steve/Darcy sex without vaginal intercourse. Steve/Darcy, roleplaying. Have fun!
> 
> Out of all the prompts here, for some reason my brain glommed onto the ‘going to church’ one. I can’t quite explain it, LOL. It’s probably a lot tamer than you had envisioned… ;)
> 
> Volunta Avemo e Core
> 
> Title translates to: We Have the Will and the Heart. This is technically in the same universe as a handful of other ficlets I’ve written, but all you need to know for this one is that Steve and Darcy have been in a relationship for a while now, since before CA:TWS, and it’s super secret. That’s about it. Thanks for Meri and Rainne for the advance read-throughs on this. 
> 
> Written in response to rembrandtswife’s prompt about Steve and Darcy going to church. This is probably not quite what she envisioned, but the images struck and I had to follow it through to the end. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

The interior of the Church of San Miniato al Monte is blessedly cool compared to the hot August day.  Darcy slips into the shade of the basilica with a sigh of relief, leaving the blistering late afternoon sun outside.  She adjusts the strap of her messenger bag and shoves her sunglasses on top of her head, hoping to give off the impression of being just another tourist come to visit the millennia old church.

It is a bit of a skill of hers, now that Darcy thinks about it.  She’s not half bad at blending in, at being inconspicuous to the typical passersby.  She’ll never be on the level of the Black Widow, of course, and she doesn’t think she’s cut out for the spy life, but it’s a useful trick for her to have.

There are a few other tourists wandering around inside, taking in the intricate multicolored tile mosaics and marble work and poking their curious heads into the little chapels that line the main space.  A wooden-framed ceiling arches high overhead, nearly disappearing into the shadows above.  But Darcy can’t spot the one person she’s here to meet.  Really, she could spot that distinctive figure anywhere.  She knows it intimately, after all.  She proceeds across the floor, taking a moment to appreciate the elaborate white stone mosaic of the Zodiac wheel beneath her feet, and heads for the stairs leading down to the crypt.

It’s much simpler down in the crypt, less decorations on the walls, and the floor stones are labeled with the names and death dates of those who have gone to their rest in centuries past.  The lower ceiling is propped up by a multitude of columns and arches, adding to the subterranean feeling of the whole place.  The relics of St. Minas himself are supposed to be down here, Darcy had discovered in her research, but that may be a little much, even for her.  Even the altar down here is smaller, more austere, especially when compared with the lavish, ancient designs above their heads, and is blocked off from the public by a wrought iron enclosure that still provides a near perfect view for anyone watching the ceremonies.  In front of the altar are a few rows of simple wooden pews for mass participants and any others who wander by looking for sanctuary.  One of these pews holds a person, broad shoulders hunched and head bowed as if in deep contemplation.  

Yeah, she’d know that body anywhere.

Her sneakers sound inordinately loud in the quiet crypt, and the man’s shoulders stiffen.  He couldn’t have missed that noise, but it’s not like she wasn’t expected.  Hell, he was the one who had invited her here, after all.  Darcy drops down into the pew next to him, pulling a thick stack of folders and papers out of her bag.

“Nobody ever suspects the intern,” she says, handing the stack over to Steve Rogers with a flourish.

“Thanks,” Steve replies, flipping the file open and going through the pages.  He looks tired, Darcy thinks, the little lines of tension around his eyes and mouth deeper than they’d been a month ago, during their last meet-up.  She’s not sure if he’s shaved since then either; the scruff he’s got going on is more than just a few days worth.

Steve looks like he’s got the weight of the world on his shoulders, and Darcy wants nothing more than to relieve him of the burdens.  “How’s the search going?” she asks.

Steve sighs and slouches back against the pew, long legs stretched out in front of him.  “Three steps forward and two steps back,” he says.  “It’s not easy chasing a ghost.”

Darcy reaches out to rub the back of his neck, and he rolls his head into her grip.  “You’re never one to back down from a challenge though.  If I know anything about you, it’s definitely that.”

His lips quirk up, not quite a smile but partway there.  “That is true,” he agrees with a nod.

The mission is two-fold, Darcy knows.  The first part is to make Hydra pay for all of the havoc wrought while Steve was asleep under the ice, and the second is to bring Bucky Barnes home.  She suspects she knows which mission is more important to Steve.  It’s rough and brutal this fight, covert attacks and nights of just waiting and watching.  It keeps them apart for longer than they’d like too; the true test of a long distance relationship.  However, Darcy’s not one to back down from a challenge either.  They love each other enough to fight for this, fight for each other, even through the hardships.  They’re both stubborn like that.

“I’m sorry for making you bring the hard copies all the way to Florence,” Steve says, reaching out and placing a hand on her bare knee (she’s heard that she’s not supposed to wear shorts in a house of worship, but it’s almost 100 degrees F out there.  Darcy’s ready to strip naked and lie on the stone floor if it’ll cool her off a bit).  “I didn’t want to take the chance of the digital copies falling into someone else’s hands.”

Darcy just shrugs.  “No worries.  Honestly, it was an adventure, taking a roundabout route like that.  Saw parts of Germany and Switzerland I never knew existed, and I got to sleep in a train cabin with three other people…”  She trails off, fighting back a yawn.  “Well, more like attempted to sleep.  Was too afraid someone was going to break into my bag.  And can I just say that paper does NOT make a comfortable pillow.”  She takes his hand, holding it tightly in hers.  “Besides, worth it.  I get to see Italy for the first time ever, and I get to see you too.  Feels like forever, you know?”

“I’m sorry for being away so long,” Steve starts to say, but Darcy cuts him off with a sharp shake of her head.

“Nope, don’t you dare apologize.  You are doing an important job, and are exactly where you’re supposed to be.”  Of course it sucks not having Steve around more often, Darcy knows.  They both know it, and it doesn’t need to be said again.  But who is she to say that he can’t go after his best friend, even if said friend might not even remember him?  She’d be doing the same thing if she were in his position, no question.

“Doesn’t mean it’s easy, though.”  Steve sighs deeply, then reaches out to wrap an arm around Darcy’s shoulders, pulling her in close.  Her skin feels almost too warm to be touching another’s that close, even with the cooler air of the crypt, but she’s missed the human contact.  It’s all too easy to snuggle into his side, rest her head against his shoulder.  “How are things going in London?”

Now it’s Darcy’s turn to sigh heavily, her face contorting just slightly.  But it’s enough to make Steve’s arm tighten around her shoulders, offering extra comfort.  “Thor’s great; you know this.  But living with him and Jane, in such close quarters…it’s a bit overwhelming,” she says, rather lamely, and hoping Steve can fill in the mental blanks where her words fall short.  “That, and I’m getting kinda bored.  We haven’t exactly been doing much sciencing lately.  Not that the science is exactly my forte, but at least it’s something.  Oh, and the walls in Jane’s flat are really, really thin.  I’m hearing things no mortal should ever have to hear.”  She sighs again, a little bit of a whine sneaking into her voice, and slumps back against Steve.  “I have got to get a hobby.”

“I know a guy who can get you a cheap deal on punching bags,” Steve says, rubbing his hand up and down her bare arm.  “Though that may be a more violent hobby than you were thinking.”

“I’m always up for beating the crap out of something.  And I’d bet Thor would give pretty good pointers too,” she muses.  “Dressed up in full Asgardian armor, hair blowing in the wind, as he rhapsodizes on about the best way to punch.”  She glances up at him, cringing slightly.  “I think I may just be cracking up a bit.”

Steve shrugs, just running with it.  “What about getting your own apartment?” he asks.

“I’d probably need a proper work visa for that…which I don’t have,” Darcy says.  “That, and Jane could decide to pack it up and head back to Culver at any time pretty much.  This research sabbatical won’t last forever.”  She tips her head back, eyes falling closed as she rests against the stiff back of the pew.  “All right, moving along,” she states.  “This is vacation time; I really don’t want to be thinking about work right now.”

Steve is silent for a minute, still rubbing his hand oh so slowly up and down her arm.  He’s thinking about something hard though, she can tell.  Because once you know Steve Rogers, Darcy has learned, it’s easy to read just about everything on his face.  And the wrinkled brow and slightly bitten lip say that something’s running through his mind at a mile a minute.  “I think Bucky saved my life the other day,” he eventually says in a low voice.

Darcy takes a moment to remind herself that even when Steve’s not working for SHIELD his life is dangerous, but that he’s better equipped to handle that sort of lifestyle than most.  She knew this going in - she met him when he was in uniform, after all - but the platitudes she tells herself makes it a little easier to handle at times like this.  Times when she can’t be there all the time to help him out.  Not that her help would make all that much difference in a fight, but she’s pretty damn good when it comes to breaking into a computer system.  “What happened?”

“I must have been distracted, or something,” Steve says.  “Didn’t see the Hydra thug coming up behind me.”

“That’s not your usual style.”

“No…but not five minutes before Sam and I ran across one of those chairs that they were sticking Bucky in when they had to wipe his memories.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah.”  Steve looks down at her and squeezes again, keeping her as close as possible as if to reassure himself that she’s actually there with him.  “Next thing I know there’s a crack, and then a few feet behind me the guy’s bleeding out from a neat little hole in his forehead.”

“It was Bucky?”  It hardly needs to be confirmed, not in her eyes, at least.  But there’s a certain relief in Steve’s face when he nods, a sort of calmness there that says maybe, just maybe, this whole damn mission is worth it.

“It was a hell of a shot,” Steve says.  “Sam swears up and down that it wasn’t him.  And he’s not a sniper.  I can count on one hand the amount of people I know who can pull off a shot like that.”  Steve trails off, chewing at his lower lip again.  

To Darcy’s surprise, a small group of monks comes out from one of the alcoves, the lead one with a key in hand.  With a loud clink he unlocks the door to the metal enclosure, and the group begins to file into the altar enclosure.  The monks are dressed simply, in draped white robes that gleam even in the low light.  They pay no attention to the two travelers sitting in the last pew.  Instead they go about and begin to prepare for something, taking out slim black books while the priest moves around the altar, lighting candles.

Steve takes a breath that Darcy can feel under her body, chest raising and lowering with the movement.  “I saw the arm too,” he says.  “Caught the moonlight just so.  Not many other people out there have a hand like that.”

Darcy frowns, eyes following around the moving monks.  “I thought he would have covered it up.”

“So did I.”

“Maybe…maybe he wanted you to know that he was there, that he’s watching over you even if you can’t see it.”  It’s a slightly frivolous and romantic thought, Darcy knows, but she’s also convinced that things happen for a reason (thinking that is the only way she’s been able to make any sense of the strange series of events that have made up her life so far, in any case).

Steve pulls her in close, the arm slipping down to bracket her waist now.  “Kind of makes me wonder who’s trying to save who here.”

“Who’s to say it has to be like that?” Darcy says, propping her chin against his chest.  “The way I hear you tell it, the two of you were always bailing each other out of trouble.  So why should it be any different now?”  He doesn’t respond to her question, just presses a kiss into her forehead instead.  But it’s answer enough, and she stretches up to kiss Steve’s cheek softly, delicately.  “So what’s with the priests?” she asks, tucking her head in the crook between his neck and his shoulder.  “I mean, yeah, it’s a church, but it’s not Sunday either.”

“Vespers,” Steve says quietly, so as not to disturb the monks setting up at the altar.  “Every evening at this time they chant the prayers. They’re well known for it, have been for years.”

By now more tourists have come down into the crypt, settling down in the pews ahead of them and waiting for the chanting to begin.  None of them notice Steve and Darcy in the back row, and she can’t help but wonder if Steve feels any sort of relief that they don’t recognize him on sight here.  Or, if they do, they know enough not to disturb him in such a sanctuary.  “Did you see them before?” she asks.  “During your first time in Italy?”

He snorts lowly, the exhalation ruffling the frizzy hairs encircling her head like a halo.  “I read it in the brochure as I was waiting for you.”

At five-thirty precisely Vespers begins, a lone baritone voice singing out a clear, sustained note.  The note begins to climb up and down the scale slowly, the Latin words drawn out in the age-old, traditional format.  Darcy lets her eyes fall shut, the chanting washing over her and lulling her into a sense of calm she hasn’t felt for a long while.  Peaceful.  That’s what it is.  She’d almost forgotten what that felt like.  She rolls her head on Steve’s shoulder, pressing her forehead into his neck once more.

“You know, I don’t have to meet up with Sam for a couple of weeks,” Steve says, low enough that only Darcy can hear him over the chanting.  “I got a hotel room too, down in the center of the city.  It could…give us a chance to be tourists, visit some museums, drink coffee in outdoor cafes, see the sights.”

Darcy kisses his neck once more, feeling the hairs there tickle her lips.  “Let’s make the most of it,” she says as the chanting rises up to the heavens once more.

**Author's Note:**

> More original notes from the tumblr post: A/n: all right, I admit, it was probably inevitable that I wrote yet another story that takes place in Italy. Yes, I have a type. Shut up.
> 
> The church described here is a real church, really is that old, and it really is incredibly well known for its Gregorian Chant programs. This page has some of the best pictures around of what the church looks like, and I can only hope I’ve done the description justice: http://florenceforfree.wordpress.com/2013/04/12/2011/. You can also hear some of the actual chant here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9eFX4iUQQ-4.
> 
> The title of the ficlet is also in Italian, and translates to “we have will and the heart”. It’s a line from one of my favorite pieces of early music, a song called Laude Novella (I rather adore early music and am always on the hunt for more knowledge, so if anyone out there has any recommendations - please let me know! I’d love to hear them). There are quite a few versions of this song out there, from some very traditional chant arrangements to some more…energetic ones. This is my favorite arrangement: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DZKYHC9m8ng. Let’s just say that it leans much, much more towards the energetic side of the spectrum and never fails to alternately send chills down my back and get my blood pumping.
> 
> Rembrandtswife, I hope you enjoy this. It was a pleasure to write. :)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
